This is an anonymized experience record that has undergone risk screening and language refinement; it does not retain the original author's identity, location, or identifiable details.
The Rebar Worker Who Often Said "Life Is Just Like This" Can No Longer Drink
He was once among the most skilled rebar workers on the construction site. Carrying steel bars, tying and welding—he worked swiftly and expertly. At the Hangzhou Bay construction site, he could earn over 10,000 yuan a month, even more if he took on subcontracts. His coworkers said the rebar in his hands wasn't just metal—it was life, money, and his family's hope.
But now, he can never return to that site. Alcohol and his body no longer allow him to do that work. He had no choice but to quit, saying, "Life is just like this."
The Doctor Warned Him Long Ago, But Only Alcohol Could Hold His Pain
The doctor had warned him long ago that his body would eventually break down if he kept drinking. But back then, only a glass could contain the hundreds of pounds of pain in his heart. On the construction site, days were filled with steel and concrete, nights with loneliness and exhaustion. Alone in a strange city, without family or friends, only alcohol could temporarily numb the suffocating weight of his troubles.
He wasn't unaware of alcohol's harm. But the pain in his heart was too heavy—so heavy that only alcohol could offer fleeting relief. He thought it was fine as long as it didn't interfere with work. But the body doesn't lie; it deteriorates bit by bit.
The Hardest Part Is Not Knowing When It Will Happen Again
Until one drunken episode nearly caused a worksite mishap. Even he was terrified—a rebar worker's job leaves no room for error; the steel in his hands was life, not a joke. Finally, he made up his mind to leave the battlefield where he'd shed sweat and the worksite where he'd wept.
He was forced to quit—not because he didn't want to work, but because he truly couldn't anymore. Even the strength to lift a wrench was nearly gone. The shoulders that once carried hundreds of pounds of rebar now needed rest after moving a few boxes. He could only make ends meet by loading and unloading goods, earning just over 6,000 yuan a month.
The emotions he once numbed with alcohol now had to be endured raw. He said it was better this way—at least he no longer cried into his glass at night or feared his hands trembling too much to grip a wrench.
It's Not That He Doesn't Want to Earn 10,000 Yuan—He Truly Can't
He said he'd endure hardship for higher wages. It's not that he doesn't want to earn 10,000 yuan, not that he truly wanted to leave the site. But his body won't allow it. Alcohol has siphoned his strength and devoured his health. He can only accept reality and take easier, lower-paying jobs.
He seems changed, yet unchanged. What remains is the unmistakable weariness in his eyes; what's changed is that life has finally forced him to put down the glass.
This Is Not a Story of Redemption
This isn't a story of an alcohol-dependent person finding redemption—it's the resignation of a blue-collar worker defeated by both life and alcohol. He did nothing wrong; the pain in his heart was just too heavy, too crushing. His life could be written long... reborn from ashes, the story starting anew. But he is who he is—the real, unvarnished him, a person dependent on alcohol.
The construction site will never again see him carrying rebar. He was good at his job—it's just this drink, this alcohol, you know.
Now, he loads and unloads goods daily for just over 6,000 yuan a month. He says it's better—at least he no longer fears his hands trembling too much to hold a wrench. But those nights crying into a glass, those emotions numbed by alcohol, now must be endured alone.
If you or someone you know is in a similar situation, consider exploring these immediate support resources or learning how family can help.
Alcohol dependence isn't a matter of willpower—it's the result of dual pressures from the body and life.